


sumuvirsi

by callunavulgari



Series: Holiday Writing Challenge '12 [21]
Category: Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Second Person, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shows up on your doorstep coughing into his fist, face pale and eyes bloodshot. It kind of makes you want to punch him, but that would hardly be helping the situation. When he protests, you glare at him in a way that made him flinch when he was younger. Now it just makes him give you an impossibly stubborn look and insist, “seriously, I’m fine.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	sumuvirsi

**Author's Note:**

> Day 21 of the Holiday Writing Challenge on tumblr [over here](http://giraffe-tier.tumblr.com/post/35469673249/winter-drawing-writing-challenge). Prompt was 'soup'. At last! I am caught up! At least until tomorrow. You'll have to forgive how rushed this is, I'm literally on my way out the door. But yay, Groose/Link and pumpkin soup.

The thing about Link is that he has a savior complex so large that it doesn’t leave any room for him to care for himself. Which is pretty shitty, in your opinion. As wrong as you may have been about the guy back when you’d had your head crammed up your ass, you’ve long since come to the realization that Link, in fact, is a really nice guy. Possibly too nice, but whatever. You already know how great it feels to do something nice for somebody from your time spent with Granny, so you can’t fault Link for that.  
  
You can fault him for not taking care of himself in the first place and then not doing anything when it became apparent that he was sick. It’s not cool, and if he’s going to bounce back and forth between Skyloft and various places on the surface than the least he can do is properly care for himself.  
  
He shows up on your doorstep coughing into his fist, face pale and eyes bloodshot. It kind of makes you want to punch him, but that would hardly be helping the situation. When he protests, you glare at him in a way that made him flinch when he was younger. Now it just makes him give you an impossibly stubborn look and insist, “seriously, I’m fine.”  
  
When he attempts a smile, he starts coughing again, so you scowl and make him take your bed. You have to fight him into it, manhandling him across the house and pressing him down into the sheets. It would feel sexier if he wasn’t coughing all over the place, still trying to insist that he was the picture of perfect health. Your hand is on the nape of his neck, shoving his face down onto your pillow when the fight finally goes out of him. He slumps the rest of the way onto the bed like a sack of bricks, and the lack of resistance nearly makes you go down on top of him.  
  
Now that he’s immobile, you can see everything that you’d missed before—the fever bright cheeks and the way the sides of his throat are swollen beneath your thumb. He’s hot to the touch, his brow damp, and you give him a look when he just smiles placidly at you. “You flew like this?” you ask him, irritated.  
  
When he nods, you growl a little bit under your breath. If he hadn’t had the best bird in Skyloft, you don’t want to think about what could have happened to him.  
  
“I’m okay, Groose,” he tells you, lids slipping shut.  
  
He’s asleep before you can respond and you huff, hovering over him for a moment before you settle on placing a warm rag on his brow.  
  
It’s been too long since you’ve gone to the skies, but he’s assured you that he and Zelda have been feeding and watering your loftwing, making sure she gets out for some proper exercise. Even still, you feel guilty when she catches you smoothly, letting out a soft, affectionate warble. You pet her feathers gently, and yeah, you feel bad, you do. But you like living on the surface—the ground solid beneath your feet. You like all the tiny birds and creatures that flock to your hut near the old temple. You’re fond of the bigger creatures too, even if the kikwis and the mogmas always manage to startle you.  
  
The Lumpy Pumpkin is just how you remember it, and several people call out surprised greetings as you wait for Pumm to ladle the soup into a container. The soup warms your hands on the flight back to the surface, and you smile when your loftwing nuzzles you as she drops you off. You’ll have to try to fly with her more often.  
  
Link is sitting up in bed when you get the front door open, his forehead crinkled in bewilderment as he looks at you sleepily. It’s more adorable than it should be, and you blush as you press a bowl of soup into his hands.  
  
When Link smiles, he does it with his entire face. It makes you feel warm all over, the same way you’d felt whenever Zelda had smiled at you back in the day. He grins at you, face bright and open, and your heart thumps in your chest, sure and steady.


End file.
